


We've Got Tonight

by revebleu



Series: One Hundred Strokes of the Brush Before Bed [3]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Immortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29766117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revebleu/pseuds/revebleu
Summary: “He could have killed you,” Joe said, words hanging quiet in the air still steeped with anger.Nicky batted it right back at him, “He would’ve killed you.”He leaned forward and kissed him feather-light, sweet and soft as cotton candy. “Don’t you-” he kissed him again but this one was desperate, “know how much-” and again, hands grasping onto each other, “I need you?”
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: One Hundred Strokes of the Brush Before Bed [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2173353
Comments: 8
Kudos: 124





	We've Got Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> As always, many thanks to everyone who left comments and/or kudos on my previous fics. Nice to know you enjoy them.

Joe's seen Nicky from infinitely many angles, in stolen glances and too long stares. Sleep rumpled and grumpy, with pillow creases across his cheeks; seen his face melt into something almost unrecognizable by sunlight shining down on his brow, nose, cheekbones, lips, and transforming his familiar features into planes so sharp and bright they could be carved from marble; watched before a mission as he hardened, from the happily smiling man that makes him delicious pies and kisses him sweeter than them, into someone who fought like he was dancing, viciously, splattered in gore, blood and viscera. Sword resting as easy in his hands as if he was born with it, eyes ice-cold, something seeming to glow in him, like he was the weapon even more than he wielded one.

If Joe were feeling sentimental he'd say that Nicky looks beautiful from each and every one.

It's simple to be with him, to fit together as they always did, to love and laugh, to get to have all that and more. To fight, side by side, back to back, almost preternaturally in sync; to fuck, fitting together seamlessly, from battlefield to bedroom.

That’s not what Joe was thinking about as he furiously attacked Nicky’s mouth though, hands rucking up Nicky’s t-shirt that was blocking his way to get at all that soft skin, no, he was thinking that Nicky still fought like the old times, and that included a reckless disregard for his own safety.

He reluctantly dragged himself out of the kiss to growl, “You’re not indestructible anymore, hayati, you need to take better care of yourself.”

Nicky, flush rising high on his cheeks, half arousal, half anger, panted out, “You’re the one who insists on constantly putting himself into danger-” was all he got out before Joe dove back in, cutting him off, Nicky biting at his bottom lip in retribution.

They fumbled their way down the hall, refusing to let go of each other, Joe’s hands grasping desperately at Nicky’s face, kissing him open-mouthed and sloppy, Nicky’s arms locked around Joe’s neck, giving back as good as he got, as they ran into walls, pausing every time to spend a few minutes making-out, and knocked over furniture on their circuitous route to the bedroom.

Once they get there, Nicky practically tackles Joe to the bed and straddles his hips before leaning down to hiss, “I was protecting you.”

Joe rolls his eyes, he should’ve known Nicky wouldn’t leave it, was too stubborn to let go. “You don’t need to risk yourself to protect me,” he shoots back.

“Tonight I had to!” Nicky snaps, his face a rictus of cold rage, eyes blazing, jaw set so tightly that Joe would almost swear he could hear his teeth grinding, lips compressed into a tight angry line.

Joe knows that he’s right, that they’d probably be in a real bad shape right now instead of walking away with scrapes and bruises if Nicky hadn’t thrown himself in front of Joe’s prone body and, barely, managed to get rid of one man while dodging the blade of the other that seemed pretty intent on killing them both. 

He doesn’t respond with words, just sits up and yanks Nicky’s shirt up off his arms and tosses it aside so they both can see the thin clotted gash on his stomach where he hadn’t jumped back from a swipe of the knife quite quick enough.

“He could have killed you,” Joe said, words hanging quiet in the air still steeped with anger.

Nicky batted it right back at him, “He would’ve killed you.”

He punctuated the sentence by grinding his hips down against Joe’s erection, a dirty move, which Joe answered by pulling his own shirt over his head, before leaning forward to press his lips against Nicky’s neck and suck a bruise, above where it could be hidden by his shirt collar. Nicky didn’t make a peep, and Joe knew he was holding back from letting out the noise he wanted to make just to be controversial because Nicky was loud enough to wake Andy when he got going. He couldn’t stop himself from rocking forward in Joe’s lap though. Still, it took Joe grinding up against his ass while palming his dick through his jeans to finally wrest a moan from him. Joe smirked and Nicky scowled but when Joe leaned forward to tell him to take off his pants, he obeyed. It prompted an awkward shuffle, with both of them trying to get undressed without stopping to touch every new patch of skin that was revealed, ending in Joe kicking his jeans and underwear off his ankles and Nicky throwing his over his shoulder before reaching over to the bedside table to grab the lube.

Joe expected him to hand it over to him, but instead Nicky rose up on his knees and poured a liberal amount of lube out, before using his other arm to push Joe flat against the bed, his hand splayed out over Joe’s chest for balance, making him watch as Nicky arched and threw his head back, panting, sinking down onto his own fingers slowly.

So yeah, Nicky was still angry, because Joe knew this was supposed to be punishment. They both loved when he got Nicky ready, making him writhe with just a few of his fingers, bringing him to the edge and back down, again and again, until he was practically incoherent with pleasure, until he begged Joe to fuck him. Though it was never a hardship to watch the sight unfolding before him, he was almost irrationally jealous that he wasn’t the one causing the little low noises Nicky was inadvertently releasing from the back of his throat.

Still, Joe wasn’t going to let Nicky's idea of punishment deter him from getting involved and he knew all the best ways to get Nicky hot. Even if it didn’t get to be his fingers opening up his tight little hole, he wasn’t about to let him think he could do without Joe. He hoisted himself up onto one elbow, his free hand pinching at Nicky’s nipple as his mouth found its partner and sucked. That drove a groan, half-arousal, half-surprise, deep from Nicky.

“Forget about me?” Joe asked, tilting his face up with a barely hidden smirk.

“Never.” Nicky breathed down at him. He didn’t give Joe any time to react to that declaration, which was most likely for the best because Joe had no idea how to respond at the moment. Instead he pulled free of himself and jacked Joe’s dick, which, granted, was an effective way to shut him up.

Joe’s hands automatically flew up to fit themselves on Nicky’s hip bones, thumbs rubbing the skin there soothingly, as Nicky fitted himself onto Joe, pulling them together. He couldn’t decide which was hotter, the warmth of Nicky’s opening around him or his eyes burning unrelentlessly into him. They were both trembling, Nicky’s hands shaking against their resting place on Joe’s chest, trying to relax as he sunk down onto the cock under him, and Joe fighting the urge to instinctively buck up to meet the really amazing ecstasy that was descending, agonizingly slowly, with each increment of Nicky’s body opening to him.

Nicky took all of him in and paused, tight and hot and still quivering, his hands unsteady. Something in the bow of his neck, the refusal of his eyes to meet his, sparked Joe to break the silence.

“I can’t lose you,” Joe said softly, “I need you.” He traced his fingertips reverentially down Nicky’s cheek, thumb catching on his lip. So quick Joe swore he didn’t even see him move, Nicky sucked it down before pulling off slow, eyelashes fanning across his cheekbones as he hummed softly, the slick-wet-hot of his mouth retreating to leave behind nothing but cool air and the ghost of his touch. The depth of the intensity in his movements shocked Joe into silent stillness. Breath hovering warm over Joe’s fingertip, Nicky’s eyes shot open to meet Joe’s and he carefully enunciated, each word a soft puff released against Joe’s skin, “I need you too.”

He leaned forward and kissed him feather-light, sweet and soft as cotton candy, almost chaste- as if Joe wasn’t currently buried to the hilt in him. It was close to torturous not to move but Nicky wasn’t done yet. “Don’t you-” he kissed him again but this one was desperate, “know how much-” and again, hands grasping onto each other, “I need you?”

Joe was about to respond, to lighten the mood, but it seemed like Nicky knew what he was planning, because he didn’t give him a chance to speak before he rose up onto his knees and slammed back down again, and again, and again, arching his back and letting out breathless sounds each time he relentlessly took Joe in until flesh knocked against flesh, the slap-slap of sweaty skin echoing Joe’s own choked out moans.

It was good, it was so good, and Nicky looked like a deity above him, with his head thrown back and Nicky was riding him perfectly, keeping up a blinding rhythm, clenching around Joe like a vise on every upstroke, bucking, and moaning. But his eyes were squeezed shut, like he was trying to block reality, and Joe wasn’t about to let that happen. Nicky was here, on top of him, right where he belonged. He was still gripping Nicky’s waist and he pressed tighter, maybe hard enough that tomorrow Nicky would still have the memory of his hands there, bruised into his skin, making Nicky slow his frantic pace down before hoisting himself upwards so he could kiss Nicky’s scowling red lips. The new position gave him more leverage, his bent legs making Nicky move forward until he had to be seated fully on his lap to move comfortably.

“Slow down babe,” he said, before dipping forward for another languid kiss, lips and tongues, and a little teeth, until Nicky relaxed into him, “we’ve got time.”

Nicky linked his hands together behind Joe, using his shoulders as a base for him to push off of, until he could raise himself up enough to be able to grind back down into Joe’s lap slowly. They were both panting, and Nicky could feel the burn in his legs, shaking from the exertion of trying to ride Joe into oblivion. This was easier, with Joe helping his every movement, lifting him up and pulling him back down onto his cock. They were so close, their lips almost brushing every time Joe bucked his hips up, and Nicky found that he couldn’t look away, couldn’t bear to break contact with those eyes that he’d spent centuries studying. Yet they never seemed to stop being fascinating.

And if things had gone differently tonight, he’d be looking at them glazed in death, or he wouldn’t be looking at all. 

Nicky buried his head into the crook of Joe’s neck. His desire to stay here, buried in Joe, Joe buried in him, enveloped in each other forever, warred with the need to move, blossoming deep in his stomach. The shift forward had pressed Joe’s dick deeper inside, and now it was pressing against his prostate, painfully pleasurable. He rolled his hips and Joe groaned by his ear. So he did it over and over.

“You feel so good,” Joe babbled, “so good.”

Nicky didn’t know how he was even forming words, but Joe had always been better at keeping his head during sex. Nicky got lost in it, the feelings: pleasure, obviously, but not just that, every sensation. Nails digging into skin, the burning stretch every time he took Joe inside, bruises and bites sucked and pressed on his body, friction burns from rope, rug burns from when they didn’t make it to the bed; the emotions, closeness, Nicky couldn’t shut it down, he didn’t know how to hide himself while being stripped so bare in so many ways. He’d cried silently, overwhelmed, the first time Joe had tied him up and when Joe noticed he’d been horrified, convinced he’d done something terrible. Nicky could barely make his mouth move to explain that he wasn’t hurt- he just felt so much. 

Being with Joe was always precious so instead of trying to tell Joe everything he was feeling, he moaned brokenly and tried to say with his body what he couldn’t with his words.

Still he mouthed I love you, I love you, I love you, against the delicate skin of Joe’s throat each time he rose up, desperate to breathe the truth into Joe's body, to make him understand that he was worth more than anything. Maybe he said it out loud too, he didn’t know, he was so lost in the feeling of Joe surrounding him. Nicky clung to Joe, and Joe clung back, nails digging into his back, like he could keep him there forever by sheer force of will, and together they rode out the storm.


End file.
